


Poison from the Sire

by courierhawk



Series: Hidden Element [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Coercion, Light Angst, Sokka-centric, bender Sokka, commission for a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courierhawk/pseuds/courierhawk
Summary: The old master firebender seemed to hate his own element. Sokka finds that attitude a bit refreshing actually.--It burns from the inside-out. A burden he never wanted. A curse of birth that can't be undone.





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Master Firebender imparts some wisdom, and judgement

 

_Many years ago, before the Southern Water Tribe was blessed with another waterbender after so decades deprived of one, the Fire Nation came to the south for a reason besides raiding._

 

_One day in the middle of spring, a fleet of Fire Nation ships–headed by someone with the rank and power necessary to command such a force–made landfall at the Southern Water Tribe. The warriors were sparse on patrol and all within the village knew that such a large enemy force could easily overwhelm and destroy them if they were to attack right then._

 

_The Fire Nation held them all at ransom that day._

 

_After a long journey at sea and clashes with the Earth Kingdom, their reserves were running low, and the firebenders demands were mostly simple: food enough to be distributed to their stores and time for repairs to their ships._

 

_But there was one demand that was not so simple or so easily forgotten._

 

_It happened near the end of their unwanted stay. By the soldiers’ words their commander was a “man of high taste” who frequented clubs of high standing that offered grace and entertainment. Or at least, that was the explanation they gave when they ordered a beautiful young woman named Kya to come aboard the the lead ship and dance for their leader._

 

_And though the man she loved was not present to see her be chosen, the pendant around her neck was clear and obvious. The fact that the Fire Nation could easily be ignorant to its meaning did not comfort her. Kya was not foolish enough to point it out to them._

 

_But she submitted to this, because she was a woman who would do anything to protect her home and the people she loved from destruction, even at the cost of her pride. No matter what she told herself though, it did not stop the rising burn of the shame in her heart._

 

_And when she exited the ship late in the evening, her arms wrapped around her sides and head low, Kya could feel that shame bloom with agony._

_If only the only thing asked of her was a simple dance._

 

_Soon after the ships finally departed–their hulls heavy with food stolen from their village–the bulk of the warriors returned, furious at the crime that had taken place. Chief Hakoda was one of those men, and it was in him that Kya found solace in the night, her husband’s tender hands and calm understanding that drove it all away._

 

_For a time, she chose not to dwell on it, and Kya busied herself with her husband, her tribe, and her soon to be growing family. Kya wouldn’t tell anyone who it was that used her; she had no interest in talking about it at all. Time was supposed to be the cure._

 

_But it couldn’t stay forgotten forever._

 

_And even Kya couldn’t restrain a cry of unrelenting guilt when her baby was born with eyes that were not blue, but instead a shade of burnished gold._

 

* * *

 

-[Fifteen years later]- 

 

* * *

 

Sokka knew this was a bad idea from the start.

 

But did anyone listen to him? Oh no, it was all about finding a teacher for Aang, even if that meant walking directly into a Fire Nation town in the midst of a festival of all things. Sokka felt the discomfort the entire time, his heart beating like mad beneath his chest. That was the last place he wanted to be. It was a only due to good luck that the three of them had the fortune to run into a Fire Nation defector who helped them escape from the city.

 

The realization that there were members of the Fire Nation who opposed the army’s actions was startling in of itself, an indicator that maybe things weren’t black and white as they appeared.

 

But that was no reason for them to let their guard down.

 

Sokka said as much himself when their rescuer, the ex-soldier named Chey with a penchant for explosives, wanted to lead them into a meeting with his boss. Apparently he served under an ex-general or admiral or whatever named Jeong Jeong.

 

Of course, not being part of the official military didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous to be involved with. They’d already made the mistake of assuming that just because he was fighting the Fire Nation that Jet and his buddies were trustworthy. Aang was dead-set in this, but they had to be ready at a moment’s notice; going out of your way to _ask_ a firebender to bend just didn’t seem like a good idea.

 

As far as Sokka was concerned, nothing good came from firebending.

 

Strangely enough though, the old man did agree to show Aang a thing or two, though he looked sour as all get out about it. Sokka’s eyes kept straying to the young Avatar’s training while he was fishing without meaning to, a strange curiosity burning in his blood.

 

As if on cue, his mood plummeted immediately when that training took a sudden nosedive.

 

Sokka had a few choice words for Aang and the old man when his sister ran off, holding her singed hands closely to herself. Seeing her hurt like that–of all the ways–was intolerable.

 

He would have gone on, should have gone on, but the warrior had to remove himself when he could feel the old familiar heat building up in his chest. He had to clutch at his chest for a moment until the feeling faded away.

 

Sokka shook off his discomfort; he had to check on Katara. She was the most important person at the moment. But when he reached the riverbed where she’d run off to, he heard the voice of the old master on the air and stopped in his tracks, ducking behind a tree to listen in. “I've always wished I were blessed like you–free from this burning curse,” Jeong Jeong’s grumbled voice worked out. Sokka was taken aback, not expecting to hear such harsh words to be leveled on his own element.

  
Katara seemed to be thinking along the same lines, “But...you're a great master. You have powers I'll never know.”

  
“Water brings healing and life. But fire brings only destruction and pain,” The man’s voice was unrelenting, and as he continued, it was hard not to see the truth in the words. Jeong Jeong clearly believed what he was saying. “It forces those of us burdened with its care to walk a razor's edge between humanity and savagery. Eventually, we are torn apart.” As he spoke, Sokka’s hand wandered subconsciously back to his heart, fingers tightening in the blue cloth.

 

The heat inside pulsed like a second heartbeat.

 

Jeong Jeong sighed, and Katara seemed to be struck speechless, no response coming to her lips. “We do not have much time,” He said, changing the subject. “It’s time for you to leave. Go gather your friends before the Fire Nation finds this place.” The waterbender in question kicked it into gear, jumping to her feet and darting into the trees, missing Sokka’s hiding place by a fair margin. The awkwardness might have helped to speed her steps.

 

Although Sokka’s reason for coming to the waterside was to see his sister, the topic they touched on then was more than a distraction.

 

Maybe Jeong Jeong wasn’t exactly the kind of guy Sokka thought he was.

 

He needed to confirm it.

 

Sokka stepped out of the treeline and made for the bank. The old master didn’t even turn around, but his rough voice called out anyway, “You should go back to your friends, boy. I have nothing to teach your little group any longer.”

 

“I _know_ that. What happened at the camp spelled that out perfectly well. I actually have a question for you.” The warrior said it in the most forward way he could manage, hopefully to let the man know he was serious. Jeong Jeong didn’t even respond, which Sokka took as a sign to continue, albeit while losing some steam on his serious-face. “Say you know this guy, hypothetically of course, and he grew up in a society that’s all...one kind of person–”

 

He was rambling, and probably would have continued rambling if the old master hadn’t harshly snapped him out of it.

 

“Get to the point,” The old man barked sharply, causing Sokka to jump to alertness.

 

“I just want to know what you’re supposed to tell a firebender who grew up in the Water Tribe!” The teen burst out, nearly shouting at him.

 

This caused a reaction.

 

Jeong Jeong straightened, and then slowly turned around to face Sokka down. He hadn’t paid much attention to the boy before, especially with the Avatar so close at hand, but he was doing so now. And all it took was for Sokka confess his most shameful and closely kept secret.

 

Appearance-wise, it was clear just from a brief look there was mixed blood in his veins. But no one outside of his immediate family knew there was _fire_ in him. He could hardly believe that he was confessing that to a man he barely knew. Though mostly of Water Tribe stock, Sokka’s coal-black hair and golden eyes stood out easily. They had neatly othered him since he was a kid (an unfortunate consequence of his birth that his parents and grandmother tried their best to defend him from to little avail). The eyes in particular Jeong Jeong lingered on, his expression briefly turning very grim.

 

It wasn’t trust that Sokka was extending to the former enemy. Far from it. But it was the first time someone’s words managed to so concisely echo what he was feeling.

 

Jeong Jeong’s eyes were sharp and demanding when he spoke next, “Show me.”

 

The blunt delivery was unexpected. Somehow the reality of being forced to confront it caused his boldness to take a shot, “Well, it was really supposed to be hypothetical…”

 

“Show me.” The man wasn’t backing down.

 

Sokka breathed out slowly, stepping closer and sitting down on the bank. He held out his hand palm facing up and–calming his racing anxiety–called a tiny flame into existence. It hovered just above his palm, releasing a faint pulse of warmth. It was so small and fragile that looking at it like this, the fire didn’t look that dangerous at all. Just a flickering tongue of crimson light.

 

But Sokka wasn’t fooled. He saw firsthand how that flame could hurt his sister, his Tribe.

 

There was nothing in that fire he could trust.

 

“This is a choked flame,” Jeong Jeong observed, his voice steady and neutral. Sokka found that he appreciated it, the complete non-judgement, the rough directness, and the lack of a demand for an explanation as to why he was like this. But then, knowing how sharp the old man seemed, he probably guessed exactly why the warrior’s blood was mixed. Jeong Jeong used to be in the Fire Nation military, deserted them even. He had to know what his countrymen were capable of doing, when drunk on power. “You’ve restrained it very thoroughly, starved it,” The man stared at him with flinty eyes, “It would take years of non-action for a firebender’s core to grow this weak.”

 

“I don’t bend. It’s not me,” Sokka said, not bothering to elaborate any further. What fire he held in his hands then didn’t count. “And I have no intention to do it either.”

 

The man frowned, now showing obvious displeasure. “Just as there is a difference between controlling the flame and allowing it to run wild–the way your friend did, there is also a difference between simple restraint and self-destruction.” Jeong Jeong gestured sharply at the offending fire in Sokka’s hand, and the displacement of air from that movement alone caused it to sway, threatening to go out. “The fire isn’t the only thing you’re starving, boy.”

 

The conversation wasn’t going the direction Sokka wanted it to. He’d wanted Jeong Jeong to validate his actions, confirm that the easiest method of preventing destruction was to cut yourself off from it completely.

 

He clenched his hand shut, extinguishing the fragile fire quickly. The action was so abrupt, and the flame so frail, it wasn’t even able to so much as scorch his fingers.

 

He wobbled to his feet, feeling off-balance. This was a mistake.

 

Jeong Jeong rose as well, attitude still just as dark. Sokka found himself wishing the guy would give an emotion that fell outside the realm of super-serious.

 

“Mark my words, continuing on this path will cause more problems for you than simply a weakened flame,” Jeong Jeong announced, not moving from the bank as Sokka backed away. “The longer you bottle all of that energy inside, the more it will eat at you,” The man continued. “It is one matter to refuse to fight with that power and only use it for minor, innocuous means, but to suppress it so fiercely that your bending glows no brighter than a candle? No. You must learn to understand your flame, or let it slowly consume you.”

 

Sokka turned away from him, one hand darting to his chest, feeling the heat bubbling inside of him. It was the uncomfortable burn that had begun to follow him from the moment Prince Zuko’s ship crashed through the ice of his village. Of an odd feeling like thrill and pain put together surfacing on the first time he saw real firebending since the day his Dad left home.

 

Was this what he meant?

 

Would his health keep deteriorating the longer he refused?

 

He wanted to deny the announcement, but it was somehow extremely difficult to outright reject what the older man was telling him. There was just something about Jeong Jeong’s words that rang true in Sokka’s mind. Or maybe it was because the master firebender most likely didn’t care enough about him to bother trying to deceive him.

 

Sokka hated the idea of relying on firebending, but was it really worth it to take these risks?

 

Deep in his head, Sokka realized that it really wasn’t worth it. If repressing to this level caused something terrible to happen to him, who was going to look after his sister and Aang? He could tolerate maybe lightning a candle or a torch every now and then...right? Like that, he might still be able to hide it from other people if he was careful.

 

Even so, the shame and disgust that caused him to repress it in the first place still festered in his thoughts.

 

Sokka didn’t get the chance to respond. Just when he was about to open his mouth and express his lingering doubts, there was an explosive crash of heat and suddenly the riverbank was wreathed in flames. Jeong Jeong threw up his hand instantly, bifurcating the inferno around them with minimal effort. If nothing else, it proved that despite no longer having any taste for combat, the master was still an indomitable force of bending.

 

He was nothing like Sokka.

 

The chugging of a bulky Fire Nation riverboat quickly became priority, interrupting his thoughts. At the head of the ship was a man in armored regalia that matched the description of the Admiral Zhao that Aang had told him about. It was time to go.

 

“Go get your friends and flee!” Jeong Jeong ordered Sokka, “Do not come back here or you will all be destroyed. Hurry!” He assumed a defensive stance and faced down the approaching ship.

 

Sokka heeded his words, dashing back into the treeline. But even as he was racing to meet up with the others, his chest was burning with a new layer of understanding of what the old man had told him. Maybe he would always hate his firebending, and maybe he would never truly accept it, wishing to be anything else.

 

But he would never put his family at risk for his own discomfort. That, Sokka could be certain of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of this was to get me back into the writing groove again, and yeah, I started with fire because it was the easiest to write, not because it was necessarily the most believable. more believable than earth I suppose though
> 
> might add a continuation to this one eventually after I do the other elements. we'll see


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's a fire under the Red Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually been sitting on this chapter for about a month or so now. I was intending on holding it back until I put out another chapter for my two main stories, but with the amount of trouble I'm having there, it seemed unfair not to post this. Unsurprisingly, it's much easier to finish a chapter when I'm being paid for it. 
> 
> I think I have a pretty clear idea of where to go with this story, and how to handle Sokka's unique style.

 

_. _

_ In the Northern Water Tribe, Sokka found himself caught up with an emotion he’d never experienced before, all in a pair of clear blue eyes. He had a crush on a girl with snow-white hair and a voice that made his heart shake. That she was patient and tolerant with Sokka’s tendency to make a fool of himself, and laughed so genuinely, only strengthened the feeling.  _

_ But life wasn’t so fair, and really, if he were in his right mind, he’d know that all along.  _

_ Yue was promised to another, engaged in that weird, restrictive way that the North had. Despite that, she agreed to continue meeting with him, if with reservations, “Sokka, this is wrong.” _

_ “What's wrong?” Sokka asked her, and could feel that anxious spark of defensiveness rise up inside him, “We're taking a walk!” But maybe it wasn’t that simple. Sokka could take losing a chance for something more than friends, even if that hurt. Really, he just enjoyed spending time with her, and he was upset that the Princess seemed so quick to throw away her freedom for a husband she didn’t even seem to care for.  _

_ But would she still  _ want  _ to be around him if she knew the truth?  _

_ Would she hate him? _

_ But Yue didn’t know. “I'm engaged. It just... feels…” Her voice was a murmur, hesitant.  _

_ And then Sokka realized that he couldn’t do it anymore. _

_ He couldn’t lie to her, especially not when Yue was trying to make him happy in sparing his feelings and struggling with her guilty conscience all the while. She deserved better from life than to be caught between her society’s customs and a guy like him.  _

_ She deserved someone better than Sokka.  _

_ He took a deep breath, face falling in preparation, “I’m sorry, Yue. The truth is...I’ve got something I need to confess too.” _  
  


* * *

 

 

There were few things that Sokka found as horrifying as the glow of the red moon that night in the Northern Water Tribe.

The day the Fire Nation broke through the long-standing barrier of the Northern Tribe, despite everything the waterbenders threw at them was a testament to how determined the enemy was to destroy them. Even if actually fighting the Fire Nation was a near-forgotten memory for many of them, it couldn’t account for everything. Even the Avatar struggled to turn the tides. 

But what really broke them, and allowed the firebenders roll over them as if they weren’t resisting at all, was the capture of the moon spirit. 

After that, the greatest force that the North had was effectively destroyed, and in no time at all, Fire Nation war machines were loosed from their ships and released into the city streets. Sokka saw them move in unabated from the bison’s back as Appa carried them over the city, their freshly restored Avatar looking horrified and confused by how quickly the battle had turned. 

Katara’s face looked faintly green, off-balance but still managing to hold herself together. And under Sokka’s hand, Yue was shuddering, clutching her sides as though injured, her eyes glassy and unfocused. The boy did his best to support them, despite the warmth still pulsing in his chest, just like it always had. 

Being physically unaffected by the spirit’s loss brought an unwanted stroke of discomfort to the warrior’s chest, but he pushed it away forcefully. His internal problems didn’t matter at the moment. He needed to look after the Princess. The tale of her birth, of the spirit offering its power to save her, only deepened the worry Sokka felt.

This had to end. 

They landed in the Sanctuary and found the culprit immediately; one Zhao and his cadre of soldiers, the man himself holding a writhing sack. It didn’t take two guesses to know what was inside. At his feet, a single black fish swam alone, erratic and disturbed. 

Aang confronted the man, and all at once all gathered were prepared for a fight. The initial moment was tense, balanced on the edge of the knife Zhao held to the bag. The man’s gaze drifted over the lot of them, threateningly. He hesitated only once–on Sokka’s eyes–but only produced a disgusted look before his attention moved away.

The aid of the old man who traveled with Zuko (Iroh, his name was) was unexpected but helpful. Even more so when his reasoning was discarded to dole out threats instead, “Whatever you do to that spirit I'll unleash on you ten-fold!” He got ready to attack, more than willing to follow up on the command, “Let it go, now!”

With so much firepower focused all on him, Zhao seemed to fold, expression weakening quickly.

He knelt by the water, ready to give in and release the fish back from where it came. 

Maybe it was instinct, or something else, but Sokka did not feel a sense of relief as the man slowly bent his knee to the ground. He felt a crawling unease, like sparks and prickles under his skin. Maybe Iroh didn’t see it coming because of his age, or like Aang, believed too much in the good in people, but Sokka was searching very specifically for treachery in the man’s eyes, and found it. He saw the instant Zhao’s sense of defeat turned into anger and promise of violence. 

And maybe he would have been too late if it weren’t for the fire in his chest, as much as it would hurt to admit that later. 

Guided only by instinct, copying a move he’d seen from someone else, Sokka attacked.

The spear of flame that was Zhao’s bending was inches from the water before Sokka deflected it with a wild sweep of his arm. The attack crumbled for a moment and then flared brighter and stronger than before, flames flowing backwards away from the unprotected spirit and into the chest and face of the man who’d unleashed it. 

Zhao reeled away, howling in pain, hands thrown up to his face as he stumbled back. Between his splayed fingers the invader’s eyes narrowed on the now unsteady Sokka in a gaze of pure hatred,  _ “You.” _

Fortunately, the man didn’t get the opportunity to retaliate. While everyone else was currently still caught off guard by the sight of a Water Triber firebending (even Aang and Katara hadn’t expected such an open display from him), Iroh had forgone his patience. Zhao’s guards didn’t stand a chance against the old man’s onslaught of strikes, and they–along with Zhao himself–were forced to withdraw or be beaten down. 

The moment they departed in a rush, Sokka’s knees gave out and he collapsed at the water’s edge. Katara and Aang rushed to his side, supporting him. Sokka breathed heavily, one hand tightening in the cloth above his burning heart. That was way too much. He'd never intended to use his fire to actually fight, and the scant, insignificant bending he'd done recently so far was not enough to prepare him for a move like that. 

He became aware of the old man’s stare weighing heavily on him, and Sokka looked away; out of all the people who knew what he could do, Iroh’s strangely sad look made him the most uncomfortable. But it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of Yue gently taking one of his hands in her own and whispering her thanks to him with eyes wet with unshed tears. “You aren’t scared of me?” Sokka asked, still having trouble believing that Yue didn’t just drop him instantly. Even from the moment she first found out, her reactions were not what the warrior expected.

The young woman only shook her head, clutching at his hand tightly, “You’re warm.”

“Ah, the spirits!” Aang’s voice interrupted them, and suddenly everyone’s gaze was drawn back to the pool, where the Ocean and Moon spirit had begun to spin. “What are they doing?” Aang said quietly, voiced awed. Around and around they chased each other, with increasingly dizzying speed, and from the water a pale blue light began to seep out like rolling fog. 

“The spirits have been disturbed,” The old firebender intoned, “It was a mistake to ever set foot in this solemn place.” It was a statement that was all too easy to agree with. 

Before all gathered, the moon above began to glow like the pool, washing the people's’ vision in pale blue. The light began to pulse, regularly, almost like a living thing. In turn, the ocean waters started to churn and rock into splashing waves. Without hesitation, the young Avatar rushed out of the Sanctuary, and the quiet oasis emptied out after him. From outside the spirits’ domain, the effects they were having on the ocean waters became readily apparent. 

Massive waves taller than buildings crashed amid darkened water, tossing the Fire Nation navy around like wooden toys in a pool. A few ships had the poor luck to smash into one another, and one–having ruptured some vital engine inside of it–exploded in a burst of flame that was quickly extinguished. Further out from shore, a whirlpool had formed, dragging those unfortunate enough to be caught in its radius down into the depths.

Even the city itself seemed to rock. Backwash from the waves ruptured the already weakened levee, turning the city canals into frothing danger zones. And for the firebenders who had made it into the city, a furious force of waterbenders were ready and waiting to drive them back again. 

That should have been the end of it. The Fire Nation invasion attempt had been beaten, by the fury of frozen ocean guided by the moon's chilling light. 

They had won. 

But things never went so smoothly for them after all.

It all happened in a blur. Aang separated from them, anxious to calm the raging spirits now that the greatest danger was over with, and Katara followed after him. 

Sokka was about to say something positive for the occasion when a deep rumble throughout the city caused his already unsteady stance to falter. He caught the sight of Yue's expression of panic and the old firebender's look of alarm, and before putting together what they meant, plummeted back into the city canal. In a moment, the current claimed him, dragging him into the sea. 

 

* * *

  
  


The only sensation Zuko could feel at this point was exhaustion. 

After the invasion, after his failed last attempt, the prince could only really focus on how tired he was instead of the consequences of his failure. 

There was something to be said about the fact that when climbing aboard his uncle’s raft after fleeing from the northern city, all he could think about was finally getting some rest. When the next day came maybe the force of that disaster would really dawn on him, hit with full force. But at the moment, Zuko’s store of energy he’d been running on since his sneaking into the city was spent. 

Maybe that was why, so soon out of port, Zuko couldn’t muster the willpower to fight his uncle’s actions when the older man fished the boy out of the sea. 

The young prince was half-asleep when it happened, coming to with a groan when he heard the splash, thinking that maybe Iroh fell off in his sleep. 

Instead he caught sight of his uncle dragging a young Water Tribe teen onto their already cramped raft. Iroh had no time to explain after seeing that the boy wasn't breathing. He immediately went to work trying to bring the boy back around, checking his airway and working on chest compressions to try to force the water out of the triber's lungs. Zuko shifted around to get a closer look, hazy feeling draining out of him as he recognized the face of the teen Iroh was trying to save. 

"That's…" Zuko paused, feeling absurd. He'd forgotten the boy's name. "He's one of the peasants who was traveling with the Avatar." Despite everything, he felt a sharp thrill of victory shoot up his spine. Maybe he hadn't managed to get the Avatar, but with a bargaining chip like this… Of course, he still felt useless, sitting on a raft in the middle of nowhere. "Will he live?" 

As if on cue, the boy's form shuddered and his head jerked up as he spewed out water, coughing loudly. Iroh quickly re-positioned the warrior onto his side so he wouldn’t choke. If Zuko was hoping for an interrogation at that stage he'd be disappointed, as the teen could only give the two of them a bleary, uncomprehending stare before promptly slumping and passing out, this time breathing on his own in a more relaxed state. Iroh breathed a sigh of relief, sitting back and wiping his brow. Still, the look he gave the Water Tribe boy was unnerving, for lack of a better word. 

Sad, almost pitying maybe. 

It wasn't as though Zuko hadn't noticed the black hair or golden eyes, but it wasn't something he liked to think about. 

Or why that would be the case. 

Mainly because the primary theory was far from a pleasant one. 

Zuko shook his head, brushing it off. "We need to wake him up. He could have useful information," The Prince reached out, only to be stopped by a gentle grip on his wrist. He turned and met his uncle’s faintly stern gaze, “What?”

“Did you see his eyes?” The man asked, voice quiet as though trying not to disturb him. 

“Of course,” Zuko said shortly, “it’s a bit hard not to notice. But even if he’s half-blood, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s on the Avatar’s side. And, at this point, I need any advantage that I can get.” He thought of his requisitioned crew, his destroyed ship, and Zhao himself as a daunting reminder of everything else that was stacked against him. 

Iroh just sighed. “That’s not entirely what I mean. There’s more to the situation than simply a case of mixed blood. I thought at first that the most surprising thing about young Sokka here was that he was firebender, but that knowledge isn’t the half of it.” The older bender shook his head, unfocused on the bombshell he’d just dropped on his nephew. Zuko’s eyes were blown wide, mouthing the word ‘firebender’ under his breath. Sure, if he were a halfblood, that would be a believable thing to happen to an extent. But all his life the prince was taught that only the people of the Fire Nation were capable of harnessing that element, regardless of their mixing. 

But Iroh wasn’t finished, “Golden eyes like that aren’t that common, not even in the Fire Nation.”

Not that common? But there were a few examples so close at hand. “But both of us…” Zuko stilled, glancing at Sokka, unwanted ideas about what the older man meant suddenly popping into place. They weren’t...ordinary Fire Nation. “Uncle, what do you mean by that?”

"That trait doesn't crop up often, and only in a few scant members of the nobility." Iroh frowned, looking into the dreading gaze of his nephew, "But...the Fire Nation royal family is well known for their fiery golden eyes." 

Zuko was outright incredulous, stomping to his feet. "No! Uncle, that's just absurd! I mean, who would even– He's Water Tribe!"

"It's the most likely possibility I can think of," Iroh admitted. "Most of the royal family have traveled the world before, for one reason or another. Whether it was because of a military-based journey or because–like you–they had left the capital in search of the Avatar. Even if this isn't a direct line, it's possible." The man's mouth straightened into a displeased line, and Zuko paused in his fuming as the man expounded. "And our country has never had the most...straightforward relationship with the Water Tribe. I can't discount that he's…"

“No, that’s enough,” Zuko said, his voice rising in a vehement denial. "I'm not talking about this anymore. I'm going to sleep, and when I wake up in the morning, this had better be some messed up dream." He turned on his heel and marched away, which wasn't very far considering the small size of the raft they drifted on. 

Zuko couldn't handle this right now, not with those implications. 

He willed himself back to sleep, ignoring the sound of his uncle's quiet sigh that followed the young man into his dreams. 

 

.

.

.

 

Sokka waited almost an hour for the two enemy firebenders to fall asleep before moving, wrapping his arms around his middle, and feeling physically sick. This was worse than he could have imagined. Despite how much wanted to deny it, just like the hot-headed prince, what reason could the old man have to lie? While he was ‘unconscious,’ to Zuko no less. 

And now he was unarmed and stranded probably miles from any real ally with one of the worst enemies of his home, all while possibly sharing his blood.

What, if anything, could he possibly do now?

 


End file.
